


Fifty ways to leave your lover

by euphrasie



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Barebacking, Complicated Relationships, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Hiatus, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Nude Photos, Power Bottoming, Power Dynamics, Soul Punk Era, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5955370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphrasie/pseuds/euphrasie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete got three text messages in the space of a week. Hiatus/Soul Punk era porn & angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifty ways to leave your lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frais/gifts).



> This basically goes PWP - Angst - PWP - Angst, but that's more or less my niche now.

Pete got three text messages in the space of a week.

The first was of a fur worn teddy bear in an orange _Welcome to Ohio_ sweatshirt. Beside it was a hand, it didn't belong to the owner of the bear, Pete knew that much.

The next photo came a day later, a familiar mouth stretched over a popsicle. Pete laughed even as he adjusted himself. It would be an innocent photo, maybe, if it had come from anyone else.

The last photo was not innocent at all. It was an awkward angle; two fingers crossed and snug inside a familiar ass, come trickling down the cleft and onto the bed below. Pete could only guess that the jizz belonged to the same man's hand in the first photo. Jealousy snagged him hard in the chest and he flung his phone onto the couch beside him, pissed off for the first time in forever.

It made him get his ass in gear. A quick google search had him booking a ticket back over to the Midwest, to some dark club on a Wednesday night. Pete kept his hood up, kept tucked to the side so he wasn't noticed. It'd been a long time since he'd been to a gig as intimate; he didn't really do gigs anymore unless paid DJ slots counted. Backstage was even stranger, it'd been a long time since he'd been backstage in a place where he couldn't get lost. It was like he'd stepped back ten years as he sneaked around, hopping out of view of anyone that could spot him. 

He was walking around the narrow backstage, blending in with the crew more than the band for once. He ducked around the corner as he saw Patrick talking animatedly with his remaining band members. They were all leaving, coats on over their stage clothes. There were no showers; no real dressing rooms in a place this tight. Soon enough it was just Patrick and his guitarist left, soon enough Patrick was allowing himself to be pressed up against the wall, hands on his hips. Patrick never allowed anything like that to happen with Pete, it was always secret, always locked behind hotel room doors.

Pete felt like a goddamn voyeur as he watched Patrick pull the man down into a kiss. There wasn't any tongue that Pete could see, but there was more than a little affection. Patrick looked pretty good with this guy;small beneath a tall body, both blond, both suited and booted. Patrick and Pete certainly didn't have that going for them.

“Michael...go, I'll see you tomorrow.” It still kinda struck Pete into his bones hearing Patrick's voice again. It was such a nice tone, not deep, but smooth and low. _Michael_ kissed Patrick again, and Pete could see that Patrick was on his toes to stretch up before he sunk down again. Pete felt something strike him in his chest, but he ignored it. Patrick watched his guitarist leave as Pete watched him, but as he headed out of the side door Patrick turned his head to the left, cool eyes on where Pete was hiding.

“You're such a fucking perv,” Patrick said. Pete winced, stepping into clearer view, but Patrick's cold look turned contemplative. “Why are you lurking?”

“Your boyfriend's hot. When did _that_ happen,” Pete laughed, but saw Patrick's walls slide up the moment he approached. He could soften him up, he knew all the ways to do it. “I got your photos. Can't believe you're letting him bareback you.”

“I don't know what photos you're talking about,” Patrick muttered, arms crossing over his stomach. Offstage he looked silly in his outfit, all dressed up with nowhere to go. He'd always been persnickety about clothes; from argyle to horrific sneakers, they had to be just-so. Now he'd kicked it up a fucking notch. Pete wanted to take him out of those clothes an item at a time, strip him bare from the buttons and bow-tie and see how long it'd take. “Why are you here?”

“Because you want me here, because when you beg I come running,” Pete smirked, leaning down to kiss Patrick's shoulder. Patrick froze even harder, offended at the notion of begging. “You've got another guy's come drizzling out your asshole and you're still asking for me?”

“I'm gonna give you my hotel number, but you're not to come over for an hour. I need to shower,” Patrick said, almost sounding like he hated himself for it. Pete knew that self-loathing ran pretty deep in Patrick's bones, this probably wouldn't help matters.

Patrick pushed off from where he was slouching against the wall, not looking Pete in the eye. He only had a rucksack with him, his instruments already loaded off somewhere for the night. Pete watched him leave, wondering if he was going to regret coming to see Patrick the day after. He usually did.

Pete wandered the streets for a while. He could tweet he was in this city and watch scattered fans over the internet freak out about him being in the same place as Patrick. He wasn't feeling that narcissistic though, so he just grabbed a coffee in a quiet diner for forty minutes before making his way to Patrick's hotel room.

When he knocked on Patrick's door, he'd clearly not long been out of the shower. His hair wasn't the bleached mess it had been for a time, but the mousy blond Pete remembered from before, damp from the shower. His face was as stern as he could make it, but really he was forever soft, even through the furrowed brow and tight lips. He didn't have the features to look mad, it always just seemed sad on him. He stared at Pete, kicking open the door to let him in.

“You smell bad and you need to shave. You're not touching me until you've cleaned up,” Patrick said. He was in one of _those_ moods then, pissy until he got a good dicking. Pete had half a mind to ask whether he treated Michael like this, but he didn't want fist fights tonight. He shrugged and looked around until he spotted the open door of the bathroom. He walked past Patrick, bumping their shoulders.

Patrick always used a musky flowery smelling shower gel that Pete didn't like too much so he just stood beneath hot water for five minutes before finding the hotel's supply on the other side of the bathroom. When he finished in the shower he grabbed at Patrick's mouthwash on the side; he didn't want any bitching about his breath tasting like stale coffee. Shaving took a little more time, but he found Patrick's electric razor and scraped at his face with it, studying his face in the least blurry part of the mirror.

“ Your Prince Charming awaits,” Pete said, coming out of the bathroom in his clothes again. If he'd have come out naked it would've sent Patrick into more hysterics, Pete could tell his mood was low and he was predictable in his angst. Patrick was on his laptop, sprawled over the couch in the room. He studied Pete for a moment, his face sliding up and then down. He flipped the lid shut and lifted it onto the coffee table.

“Right,” he said dismissively, standing up. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, it's fine.” Pete watched Patrick grab a bottle of water from the counter in the tiny kitchen area, it was a lot more basic than the hotels they'd used when they'd last been on tour. Pete just stared at Patrick in his loose shorts and t-shirt. Pete was a little disappointed he wasn't still in his stage clothes, that he'd missed the opportunity to pull him out of the fancy gear. “Where we doing this?”

“Couch,” Patrick said, downing half of the water before leaving it on the counter again. Pete sat down on the center of the couch. Patrick stood above him for a few seconds before leaning himself over Pete. He sat in his lap, knees either side of Pete, arms resting over his shoulders. “I finally got myself someone much better than you.”

“I bet,” Pete said, lifting a thumb to press against Patrick's full bottom lip. He remembered the second photo of Patrick sucking the popsicle and he pushed his thumb between his lips. Patrick bit down hard until Pete pulled his thumb away, shaking the pain off. “If he's better than me why are you gonna be on my dick tonight instead of his?”

“Because I really hate myself,” Patrick said, pretending it was fake. “I hate you.”

Pete laughed dryly. “No, you don't. Hate me, at least. The other part's true, but I hate myself too so it's okay. Let's not talk.” Pete pushed their mouths together, half expecting Patrick to bite his lip for that. He didn't though, and though it took a few pecks to warm him up, Patrick started to kiss back, his full weight sinking down on top of Pete.

It was thousands of memories that were overtaking Pete's brain as they made out. How many hotel rooms had they done this in? It may be the first time that Patrick had been more than Pete's sidepiece, but they'd been doing this for so long, sneaking around whoever Pete was with, hating each other the more they did it. The longer it had continued the more bitter Patrick had gotten, until they weren't a band anymore and were far from on speaking terms.

Pete's hands curved over Patrick's ass as they really got into it. Their mouths were wet with spit, their lips slipping and bumping and Patrick was starting to circle his hips slowly, dick hardening against Pete's stomach. Pete knew every single way to get Patrick off, but tonight wasn't going to be one where he was in charge, he knew that much. He'd learned to let Patrick have his way more often, he was the one that took all of this to heart, it was only fair.

Pete squeezed at Patrick's ass through the soft shorts, hearing the skipping gasp Patrick leaked, one hand leaving Pete's hair to push down between their bodies, pulling down Pete's zipper. Pete grabbed at Patrick's chin, pulling him away to get a quick look at his face. Patrick looked mad at getting grabbed, but Pete wanted to see the desperation on his face. His lips were cherry red and swollen; his cheeks a dark pink. He carried his arousal in such a pretty way.

“You look like a doll,” Pete admitted, letting go of Patrick's face and not really anticipating the slap he got for such a comment. He rubbed at his cheek, but it was true and it was worth it to see Patrick dial his blush up harder. Pete moved his other hand, pressing up between the shorts, rubbing against Patrick's taint. “How do you want to do this?”

Patrick licked his lips, eyes hooding as Pete rubbed at his hole through the shorts. He’d always been into that kind of play; he was a total ass-whore and it played into Pete's favor a hell of a lot in the past. Patrick loved getting fucked and he was good at it. Pete wasn’t going to fight it; there wasn’t anything he liked more than sinking his dick inside Patrick for a few hours.

“I don't want you coming too soon,” Patrick said, “you need a condom to last or what?” He slid off Pete’s lap and dropped to his knees in front of his suitcase open on the floor. He had a bottle of lube in his hand and an already open box of Skyns.

“I don’t need a condom, but you’re in a relationship. You should me make wear one, idiot,” Pete said, watching Patrick stand up and walk over. “I am clean, though.”

“Good.” He tossed the condoms to the floor and crawled over Pete again. He dropped the lube to the couch beside them and worked on undoing pete's zipper. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Patrick,” Pete said, lifting his hips so that Patrick could yank his jeans down. He hadn’t bothered with underwear. “You’ve never been good at making me wear a rubber.”

“You’re gonna need to shut up,” Patrick muttered, hand curving over Pete’s dick when it was finally in his reach. “I’m gonna need you to really shut up.” He squeezed tight, his thumbnail digging into Pete’s cock. He winced, but curved his hands back over Patrick’s ass, sinking them down past the waistband of his shorts. Patrick had lost a fair bit of weight over the past few years, but he still had a really nice ass and Pete was never gonna give it up. He pushed the shorts down so that they were hooked beneath Patrick’s ass, his middle finger finding its way to Patrick's favored place. Pete started to laugh as his rubbing set off a rumbling moan from Patrick's throat.

“You’re like goddamn putty in my hand the moment I start fingering you. You never change,” Pete said, leaning in to kiss at Patrick’s chin. He hissed when Patrick’s nail pressed to his dick again.

“I meant it. Don’t fucking talk,” Patrick said, though his voice shuddered and he was already slipping from control.

“Patrick, lighten up,” Pete sighed. He was never going be scared of Patrick, but he did know this was the start of the end again. He pushed his finger in dry, sinking down into Patrick’s body. Patrick grabbed the lube again, touching behind himself to pull Pete’s fingers away. “What, am I not allowed to help out at all?” Pete said, sliding his other hand up the inside of Patrick’s thigh. He loved those secret parts of Patrick, warm padded heat and smooth skin. Patrick’s slick fingers bumped against Pete between his legs, but he was already opening himself up. Pete liked the slick sounds, the soft sighs Patrick gave.

“Michael likes to watch this part,” Patrick said softly. “I watch his dick get harder as I fuck myself open. It’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Pete raised an eyebrow, smoothing a hand over Patrick’s dick. Patrick’s eyes turned icy blue again, even as he shifted closer to Pete. Pete moved his hands up Patrick’s spine, curving beneath his shoulder-blades, looking up at him. He wanted to flip them over and fuck Patrick as his own pace, watch the way Patrick would have to do as he wished for once.

“I’m not--” Patrick shook his head, slick fingers falling away. They rested against Pete’s shoulder as he braced himself on his knees again, the words slipping from him. ”Sit further forward.” Pete did as he was told as Patrick changed the subject, shuffling forward and holding onto Patrick so that he didn't fall off. Patrick poured more of the thick lube into the palm of his hand, slicking it over Pete's dick. Pete could see nothing but Patrick's t-shirt, but he breathed in the scent of him. It almost made him sick; his senses flooding back. Patrick wiped his slick hand over Pete's shirt, smiling at him. It wasn't fake and it wasn't confident, it was a real Stump smile and it was solely on Pete.

“Come on,” Pete said, hitching his hands beneath Patrick's ass and pulling him down. Patrick's legs closed in against Pete, his feet resting behind Pete. He had to help Patrick out with the position they were in, holding his cock and moving it against Patrick's ass. He kept his middle finger tucked against Patrick's rim, even when his cockhead nudged against his finger.

“Only the head,” Patrick said into Pete's ear, biting down on his lobe. Pete couldn't bruise Patrick this time, as he'd always liked to, but he could hardly care when Patrick was starting to stretch open over his cock. Patrick pushed down as Pete breached him, the heel of his foot digging into Pete's spine as he kept himself upright. He had one hand grasping and bracing the back of the couch, the other wrapped tight to Pete's scalp. “Oh God, that's good.”

“Yeah.” Pete took deep breathes, trying not to let it take over his body. He had to slide his finger out of Patrick to help him him up, one hand still wrapped around his cock. This was how Patrick wanted it; tight, controlled. It took a lot of concentration.

“Okay,” Patrick said, giving Pete the go ahead. He sunk down slowly, the thick lube making the slide-in easy. Patrick knew how to take it with ease, but he was so fucking delicious to Pete that he couldn't do anything but watch.

Pete had to help Patrick move, hands on his hips as he helped him slide up and down, but it was slow, and fuck, Pete liked it rougher, liked to push and pull, to gain some control. He wanted to push Patrick's face into the couch cushion and bounce his hips off Patrick's ass, wanted to hear the sweaty slapping of their skin.

Patrick's tongue was sliding into Pete's mouth, arms tight over Pete's shoulders as their chests touched. He'd lost himself a little bit, lost the control as he let himself get carried away. They hadn't done this in over a year now and it was a lot to get re-accustomed to.

Pete's hands were roaming as Patrick started to grind back and forward on his lap. Patrick's skin was hot and he felt no different from any other time they'd done this. When Patrick pulled away it took a few moments for the glazed look in his eyes to fade. He was still a pretty pink, still gasping. Pete don't want it like this, not on Patrick's terms. He wanted something harder; nastier. 

“You're not as tight as I remember,” Pete said, watching the soft look on Patrick's face harden somewhat. His hand moved from softly stroking Pete's nape to digging into the thin skin around his throat.

“Michael's got a big dick, really stretches me out,” Patrick said. “Sure is bigger than yours.”

“But you're with me and not him, so,” Pete shrugged, pulling down on Patrick's hips so he was tucked complete inside. Patrick's jaw jutted out and his teeth caught Pete's chest. This was better.

“Just shut up and let me,” Patrick lifted his head, one hand pressing to Pete's throat as he shifted up. He started to fuck himself harder on Pete's cock, moans falling from his red lips. Pete watched him, taking a hold of Patrick's cock from beneath his t-shirt. Patrick's grip around his throat wasn't hard, and he wasn't as mouthy as he'd been in the past. Usually he'd be sparring off about something as he clenched tight and wet around Pete, but he just seemed quiet and a little somber this time.

Pete's hand tugged on Patrick's shirt collar bring him down for another kiss. It was a way to get Patrick's hand from around his neck; it slipped to Pete's shoulder instead. He was a wet vice over Pete, clenching and shuddering, wrapped tight and hot.

Pete was ready to come, but he had to breathe through it, had to stroke Patrick's cock and kiss him and rub a thumb against his stretched rim just so that he could finally lose it. Pete watched Patrick's face screw up, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he came. Pete stroked him through it; thumb riding the swell of Patrick's cheek, still chasing the peak of his own high, knowing he couldn't come until Patrick agreed.

“Come on. Come inside me,” Patrick said a few shaky seconds later. He was squeezing tight, through his own sensitivity, puffing hot wet kisses against Pete's neck. It didn't take much to work himself back up, holding Patrick tight to him as he finally came.

It was one of those times where it took Pete a good while to come back to himself. Those few moments after seemed lost, he couldn't recall anything until his legs suddenly felt dead and his back ached from the space between the couch back and Patrick's feet. Pete was relaxed in more ways that one though. After getting fucked Patrick tended to calm down the pissiness a little. Pete had a whole lot of experience in the situation.

Patrick was still pressed against him and didn't seem to want to move any time soon. Pete had shifted enough so that his dick could slide out of Patrick, but he was still sprawled over Pete's chest, his eyelashes fluttering against Pete's neck.

“We need to get cleaned up,” Pete said softly, when the wooziness of his orgasm had mostly lifted. Patrick stirred against him, using Pete's shoulders as a way to brace himself. His legs clicked as he stood up but he was quickly ducking to the coffee table for the box of tissues, holding them between his legs.

“I should probably...bathroom,” Patrick murmured, shuffling off. Pete was left to stretch his legs out. He used the tissues to wipe his dick and thighs down from the lube before leaning back against the couch, rolling his shoulders from the cramp. He stood up when he heard water running; Patrick must've hopped back into the shower and Pete walked around the hotel room, finishing the water Patrick had left on the side. He ended up on the bed, flicking around with the TV before twisting his head to see the small bear from the first photo sitting on the nightstand.

“It seems unlucky to travel without him.” Pete looked up when Patrick walked in, shucking his shorts for some pajama pants. He crawled up onto the bed beside Pete, shoving his glasses on his face. It hurt to look at his face, so he stared down at the bear instead.

“It cost me like four bucks at a gas station,” Pete brushed it off, “but it cheered your grumpy little face up when I threw at you.”

“You don't have to say it like that,” Patrick responded softly. “Why do you always act like you couldn't do something nice for me for once?”

“Fine. I bought you the goddamn bear because we had sex the night before for the first time and I felt bad. I dunno why, but you seemed sad so I bought you a crappy bear to try and cheer you up.” Pete shrugged, putting the bear back on the nightstand and turning over to stare at Patrick.

“You know why I was sad,” Patrick said, stretching his legs out. “The start of all this bullshit.” He waved his finger between the two of them, but was staunchly not looking at Pete. They dealt with it differently, they always had. “Do you want something to eat? I can order room service.” Patrick leaned over to the nightstand near Pete again, grabbing the hotel's pamphlet. Pete watched him closely, the downturn of his lips. The anger had dissipated, but now came the sadness.

“Do they do pizza?” Pete smirked at the flat look Patrick gave him. He ordered it all the same, margarita because he was veggie at the moment. Patrick was slim and he was healthy; he had a boyfriend and he almost looked happy when he wasn't mad. It was pretty weird to see.

“Do you love him?” Pete asked as they were tearing through the pizza barely twenty minutes later. Patrick was picking at the crust in his hand, ankles tucked beneath his thighs as he stared down at his food.

“We haven't said it yet, but he's taking me to meet his parents next week and I planned to say it to him afterward. It's what you're supposed to do, right?” Patrick said, looking up at Pete, finally biting into his slice.

“Yeah, that's pretty romantic. You should probably only say it if you mean it though.” Pete watched Patrick’s face crease up. He had such a baby face at times; soft features having him look like a toddler on the edge of a tantrum whenever he was mad.

“Who says I wouldn't mean it? I love him as much as I'll love anyone that isn't you. He's smart and he's tall and he's cute. He's older, but it doesn't seem weird with him. He's really good and he likes me just as much,” Patrick rattled the list off, but he was looking sad again.

“But you still sent me those photos,” Pete pointed out, sucking grease from his fingers. It was a pretty bad pizza, but he'd eaten a hell of a lot more than Patrick had.

“He knows about you,” Patrick sneered, irritation snapping back. “He knows everything that happened between us, I told him all about it. He said that first love never goes away completely, that there will always be complicated feelings about it.”

“So complicated that you just came on my dick,” Pete laughed. “I bet you made yourself out to be a real victim to him, cried about how I broke your heart.”

“You did break my heart,” Patrick said back. “You broke it a billion times over and you're going to break it again tonight, but I'm not crying now. You never-- when you separated from Ashlee you never called me up or anything. That finalized it for me, okay? I know you don't want this in any other capacity than what it is so I decided to actually find someone that might like me and I have. He makes me happy, so fuck you, Pete. I _am_ a victim.”

“You're really not, though. You were a victim the first time, maybe, when you realized I wasn't going to leave Jeanae. But you kept coming back and I wasn't going to turn you away, I wanted it too, but I knew I couldn't have it the way we wanted.  You knew exactly what we were doing.”

“You make it sound noble to have a whore behind every other lover's back. I wasn't that easy.”

“You really were,” Pete smiled at Patrick, but he could see that Patrick's emotions were rising again. “Don't call yourself my _whore_ , that's like movie stuff. You make it sound so fucking dramatic.”

“Why do you always think it's funny that I get upset by this?”

“I think it's interesting how in control you are of us until you get fucked and then this side comes out and you get all mopey and upset,” Pete admitted. “But I do get upset by this too, I just don't start crying in front of you. I'll self-destruct at home. I'll fly back to LA and I'll go off my meds and I'll say something really fucked up to Ash so she won't let me see Bronx for a week and the pattern repeats. I don't cry about it like you do, but I do get upset.”

“Well, you're still less of a victim than me. You're the one stopping us from being together.” Patrick stood up and walked over to the sink, washing his greasy hands. Pete could pretty much see his brain clicking over. “I want us to be together. You don't.”

“Don't be that way,” Pete rolled his eyes. “It wouldn't work, that's why.”

“You never wanted to try.” Patrick wiped his hands on a paper towel before coming back over to the bed. He was a little more composed, but he still looked so upset. “Whatever. I don't want to talk about it.”

“Remember what we always used to do in the hotel rooms?” Pete said trying to clear the air. Their relationship would always suck at the worst parts, but he didn't want the entire trip to be a huge downer. Patrick immediately smiled, nodding his head.

“We were in bigger hotel rooms than this by the end,” Patrick responded, “and I’ve already had like two showers already today.”

“Yeah, but it's our thing.” Pete shrugged his shoulder, but Patrick was sighing, even as Pete stood up from the bed. “I'll go run it then. I know you like it hot.” Baths were like a silly little thing for them, something they'd started to do so they had something other than sex to look forward to. Pete, despite what Patrick thought, did desperately want to be with him, but was pragmatic enough to know that it wouldn't ever work. There wasn't any point trying it out because they'd end up in an even worse spot.

Patrick wandered into the bathroom after Pete had finished running it. He still looked pretty glum even as he lent against Pete, hugging him from behind.

“You wanted me here, the least you could do is cheer up.” Pete stroked Patrick's wrist wrapped around his chest, leaning back into his chest. 

“Never been a cheat before,” Patrick said into Pete's ear. “It sucks.”

“Yeah, but it was your choice and you have to learn to deal with it. I won't ever cause trouble between you and Michael so don't feel you have to tell him. You know that.” Pete kissed Patrick's soft mouth as he turned around, before pulling his pants off and ripping his shirt over his head. Patrick followed suit, watching Pete hiss as he sunk into the hot water. “My God, turn the cold water on.”

“No,” Patrick said, pulling his own clothes off. “I like it this temperature.” He stepped into the tub, looking like he wasn't sure where to sit himself until he was crouching with his back to Pete’s chest. “I can't do this with Michael, he's too fucking tall.”

“Good, it's something that's just for us then.”

“I guess I can pretend you didn't do this with anyone else.” Patrick said. He rested his head back against Pete, eyes fluttering up nearly cross eyed at Pete. “I'm not an idiot.”

“That could be debated,” Pete said, smoothing a damp hand over Patrick's forehead. He ran a hand through Patrick's hair, stroking gently. Patrick sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was more than what he wanted, to hold and touch Patrick like this. It was fake, but they were good at pretending after all the years. Patrick was always so pliable like this. “Will you let me have my way later? It's been so long since you let me have some control.”

“That's only gonna make things worse,” Patrick said, shifting and rolling his neck when Pete kissed it. “Okay, fine, but you know how I get afterwards.”

“I know,” Pete laughed, gently twisting Patrick’s chin so he could kiss his mouth. “I'm dealing with it anyway.” Patrick opened his lips wide, stroking Pete’s forearm as it slipped around his middle. Anything awkward, from either the sloshing water, or the way Pete’s legs were pinned to the sides of the tub, didn’t matter. It was so right when things aligned for them, between the shouting fits or tears. Pete couldn't describe the way it made him feel, only that it almost made this seem worth it. 

When the water had turned tepid and their skin had started to prune, Patrick pulled the plug on the water, stepping out of the tub and helping Pete up. He was in a much better mood now, Pete could tell. He’d have a few hours of this calm boneless Patrick before leaving again. There was no point redressing this time when they would be fucking again at some point, but Patrick crawled onto the bed, a towel draped over his lap for some reason. Pete rolled onto his stomach, watching Patrick look sadly up at the ceiling. 

“You wanna talk about what's clogging your head up?” Pete said, when Patrick started to pinch and tug at his lip with his teeth. Patrick turned to stare at Pete, eyes on his face like he was trying to suss Pete out.

“Michael's taught me a lot about myself. When I told him about you and how we've been sleeping together behind everyone's backs for years he said to remember that actions always mean more than words,” Patrick said eventually, raising his eyebrow as he waited on Pete's reaction.

Pete laughed, but it wasn't funny and he knew where it was going. “What's he implying?”

“That you say you love me but you've never shown it. I think that I've shown you how much you meant, I said some pretty... on your bachelor party I laid it plain out for you and you chose to marry Ashlee. Fine. But you're also pretty aware of the fact that I'd leave Michael the moment you say something, yet he treats me better than you ever have.” Patrick rolled onto his stomach to stare at Pete. His shoulders were pink from the heat of the bathwater and Pete found it much easier to stare there than at his face. “You only turn up on my initiative these days. Do you love me or is it just sex?”

“Of course I love you, but this isn't a healthy thing for me. I do it because I want you, but then I go home and I don't get to have you and it fucks me off.” 

“You could,” Patrick cut in softly, but Pete shook his head.

“We're good for a night, two at best but I want to kill you by the third night and that's... I just don't think we match up well like that. It's fucking killer because I love you but-”

“It's okay. I don't really like excuses anyway,” Patrick shrugged, rolling onto his back again, arms flopped over his head. “You know, every time you leave I lay there in bed and I think 'maybe he's just going to shower' but then five minutes pass and I know you've taken the coward's route again.”

“Yeah, well. That's just something you have to deal with, then. Sorry.” Pete shrugged his apology, turning to look at Patrick. His lashes were damp, but he wasn't letting them fall. Whereas Pete lashed out at everyone or kept it locked up until he was ready to burst, Patrick would cry if he found something funny, from frustration, from anger. It was a novelty at first, all those years ago when they first met, but that was a long time ago now.

“See, Michael was right. Actions _are_ better than words, so this is it for me. I'm not doing this again. I have a good guy in my life and he fucking respects me so why would I waste my time on you when I have him?” Patrick looked more like he was convincing himself than telling Pete, hands folding over his face before he dropped them to the side.

“You've said that before,” Pete pointed out. “You tell me it's the last time and then a few months later you want me back again.”

“You always come back,” Patrick snapped back, pushing his hair forward. The tears hadn't fallen, but Pete could see a slight shake to his hand movements. “And I have Michael now. It's different with him, so different. The sex is different too.”

Pete hadn't ever discussed his sex life outside of Patrick with him, for Patrick's sake really, who felt the sting of jealousy so much more than Pete. Pete, though, was pretty curious. “What's it like?”

“Well. He's been teaching me some music theory on the road and so one time he was fucking me and I started to call him Sir as a joke and it made him freeze up like nothing else. His dick was hard though, so I kept it up and he's never come so hard. Least not with me.”

“Are you submissive with him?” Pete laughed at the notion. Patrick had been a virgin when they first slept together, but he hadn't been quiet or shy in the bedroom, not even back then. Bratty perhaps, but that had quickly faded to intense bitterness, or whatever he channeled when they did it now.

“Not really, but sometimes I get kinda overwhelmed.” Patrick looked up at Pete in thought. “He's just really sweet and says such nice things to me, but we were never like that. It's just so different from what I'm used to.”

“We're not nice,” Pete said. “And that's why this won't ever work, but you deserve someone that makes you happy and he-- I mean, he sounds pretty vanilla which isn’t your kind of thing at all, but if he makes you happy.”

“He's not vanilla, I'm just not a huge bitch to him like I am with you. We...he likes to take photos of me and stuff. Lingerie is kinda constraining, but he likes me in it so. Sometimes I match it to the suits on stage and tease him with it.”

“I like you in it,” Pete blurted out. He hadn't ever seen Patrick in anything resembling lingerie, but it sounded like a guaranteed winner. “Send me the photos.”

“I will.” Patrick nodded his head without pause. “We've made a few home movies too. You want a copy of those? It's his thing, not mine, but he's super into them. I might even bring out the whole ‘Sir' shit again so you can see how hot it makes him.”

“I want a copy,” Pete said. “God, I bet he'd hate me.”

“You broke my heart and he loves me. Of course he hates you, but it's not like you're gonna meet. We're not doing this anymore, remember?”

“Yeah, you're just gonna send me your dirty tapes instead?”

“Exactly.” Patrick looked upset with himself. “I don't want it to be like this.”

“I know, Patrick. I know.” Pete lifted a hand and Patrick moved into his touch. “It's this or nothing. We'd kill each other otherwise.”

“You don't know that,” Patrick said softly. “I wouldn't always be mad if we were a couple. I know how to handle you.”

Pete rolled his eyes. _“Handle_ me?”

Patrick didn't seem to care about Pete's indignant tone and shrugged a shoulder in response. “There's a reason I'm still here when every other relationship has crashed and burned.”

“Because you can't let things go? The only time we ever hook up is on your word. I never instigate it anymore, I haven't for years.” Patrick's eyes deadened at that and Pete _felt_ the hurt slam into Patrick even as he blinked it away.

“I don't put a gun to your head,” Patrick insisted. “You're just a coward because you're too scared to let this happen.”

“Yeah, probably, but you must enjoy how it hurts by this point. I guess that makes us even.”

“Makes us stupid,” Patrick smiled this time, the argument settled for the time being. It wasn't ever going to be any different. They'd been in the same routine for years and it wasn't going to change. Pete loved Patrick more than almost anyone, but he never envisioned a life where they'd be together in the ways Patrick wanted. “Did you like the song I wrote about it?”

Pete laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. He was starting to feel tired, even if he knew he wouldn't sleep. “I'm a cheat cheat cheat, yeah?”

“You were my biggest inspiration for that,” Patrick said, “I am now, I guess. A cheat, I mean. I could tell Michael about it, he might forgive me. He knows you're my weak spot.”

“He might, but don't bother telling him. This isn't just sex between us, but it's not gonna amount to anything outside of hotel rooms, so why bother hurting him with it? Live with him, love him and forget about me.”

“Very poetic.” Patrick's lips pinched themselves white, his eyes up at the ceiling again. “Haven't forgotten about you yet, but let's not. I don't wanna do this anymore...talk about this bullshit.” Pete caught Patrick's hand as he gesticulated, holding onto it, pressing kisses into the indents of his knuckles. Patrick's lips softened again, his eyes sliding down to the TV. He didn't look at Pete, but he curled their fingers together as his emotions settled again.

Patrick hadn't fought his position in Pete’s life for the longest time at first. He wanted more than to be the person he sneaked around with, but it was all Pete offered him and it had been enough. It was better that then it becoming a media circus that Patrick would hate even more. Pete was certain they'd fall apart quickly and badly, but when Pete had hooked up with Ashlee Patrick had started to become restless. When the whole pregnancy and wedding was announced, Patrick's mood had dipped even lower. At Pete’s bachelor party, he'd near enough begged Pete to call it off and be with him, but Pete had a kid on the way and way too much at stake. Patrick had gone cold at that, bitter as fuck and distant. They still fucked, but it was nearly always on Patrick's terms and it stopped being fun. When Patrick had called it quits on the band, Pete presumed it meant the end of them as a couple, but Patrick had texted him a year or so ago and they'd hooked up then, before the same thing happened this time.

“You're in deep thought.” Pete stirred from his thoughts as Patrick's spoke. His hand was rubbing soft circles over Pete's chest, like he hadn't been pissy all night. It was Patrick though, and Pete always made exceptions for him. He was dumb for the kid, always had been. He stroked Patrick's hair back, shaking his head by way of apology or explanation.

“You put on a good show, I forgot to mention between everything else. You've done good and I'm proud,” Pete said softly, meaning it. Patrick smiled at the compliment, Pete knew that meant more to him than either could say.

“I think I do alright. It's how I want it,” he said softly, resting his chin against Pete's shoulder for a moment. “I'm so controlling.”

“I know.” Pete laughed, thinking about how sex went between them these days. Patrick couldn't control his feelings for Pete, but he could control how he showed them. Pete, though, suddenly remembered that Patrick had agreed in the bathtub to let Pete have the next time his way. “Remember how you said you'd give control up the next time we fucked.”

“I'll cry,” Patrick stated, point-blank. “I don't know why I always do it. I know how this will end, it's not unexpected.”

“It's just how you emote,” Pete shrugged. “I bottle shit up then explode all over everyone. Yours is healthier.”

“Yeah but it's embarrassing,” Patrick laughed, “don't you prefer me being a cold bitch?”

“No. That's just another side of you. You've always been a crybaby, but you've always been a bitch too. It balances you out nicely.” Pete doesn't mention the sweet side to Patrick that he adored most, because that really would open the floodgates and it had already been a pretty bad night. “Do you think this will ever be like it was before?”

“Nope.” Patrick shook his head, but he didn't move away this time. “This is it, though. This has to be goodbye because I've got someone better and I can't risk him.”

“Right,” Pete said. He wasn't convinced. Patrick may love Michael, but he'd always love Pete more. It wasn't something that made Pete all that happy, but it was the truth. “The last time for now.”

“Uh huh.” Patrick leaned up and pressed their mouths together, elbows resting either side of Pete’s head. He was warm and solid and it was good. Pete’s hand slid low, resting on the small of Patrick's back, stroking in small circles as they made out. Patrick was shifting forward ever so slightly, grinding forward and catching Pete’s cock against his movements. It was stirring him awake, Patrick was always good at that.

Pete flipped them after a while, rolling Patrick onto his back. He frowned immediately, but then licked his lips as his eyes closed. Pete just stared down at him. They hadn't bothered redressing after their bath and he liked having Patrick all spread out for him. He wanted to be slow with this so he stroked Patrick's hip in his hand, he had hip bones that protruded these days. He pressed his thumb over the ridge of one, pushing against the bone. Patrick laid there, belly rising and falling with his breaths. Pete moved his hand lower, over Patrick's thigh. He knew it was love with Patrick in how much he adored the short space between Patrick's hip and knee; in how it always made him feel relaxed to imagine Patrick's sweet sleeping face next to him. He didn't think those things about anyone else in his life. It was just another silly Patrick thing.

Pete squeezed the meat of Patrick's thigh, tips of his fingers pushing into the skin. He watched Patrick's face, but all he did was scrunch his nose up slightly, his own hands resting on the sheets beneath him.

“I can't remember the last time you sucked my dick,” Pete mused aloud, dropping Patrick's thigh and roaming his lower stomach. The tips of his fingers brushed against the base of Patrick's cock, but he didn't grope him, just moved over to his other side.

“I prefer your dick in other places,” Patrick said with a smirk. He rocked his hips up slightly, but Pete pushed them down again, thinking things over. 

“Of course. What about… what about I make you come and then I get to fuck you.” Pete moved his fingers down between Patrick's legs. He was both adept at taking and relaxed from the bath, so even dry, he took the fingers with ease. 

“You just want me quiet and easy.” Patrick saw through Pete's comment, but he nodded his head and opened his legs. “I guess I can be both for once, so long as you make it good.”

“I _always_ make it good.” They smiled at each other before Pete leaned down, pressing their lips together. It was dirty and sharp, Patrick always made it so, his teeth sinking down into Pete's bottom lip. “I know what you like.“

“Make it good then.” Patrick shut his eyes, shifting his head away. When relaxed, Patrick was an easy _easy_ guy to please. He slid his fingers out of Patrick to find the lube still on the couch and grabbed his phone from the counter too. Patrick wasn't watching, had his eyes shut and his hand low on his stomach. 

“I'm gonna take some photos. Some mementos,” Pete said by way of asking. Patrick's eyes slid open and he opened his mouth in hesitation. “No one will see them,” Pete insisted. “Just for me.”

“Alright. Just this once,” Patrick responded. Pete thought there'd be more of a fight, but perhaps Patrick was finally getting over the self esteem issues that had plagued him for years. Pete snapped a photo of Patrick laid out like that, spread pink and white over the sheets. He kissed Patrick when he'd finished, falling into his mouth, Patrick's hands warming his back in smooth circles. 

Pete squeezed some more lube out onto his fingers as they kissed before weaving his hand between them both and rubbing his fingers over Patrick's hole. Patrick's soft moans folded between their lips, fingers digging into Pete's spine. Pete didn't press in, circling his slick fingers over and over. Patrick was hard against their bellies and Pete was starting to let it build up inside him too. 

Pete finally pushed a finger inside, letting it sink with ease into the heat of Patrick's body. He took his phone into his free hand again and snagged another photo. Patrick was helpful enough to spread his legs for Pete to get a good shot. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to leave Patrick this time, knowing he had photographic evidence of their time together simply a locked screen away.

“This is so fucked up,” Patrick said, giggling soft. It seemed like he was finally lightening up, his body loose and soft beneath Pete. His wrist was starting to ache, but still he hooked his fingers inside Patrick and pulled gently, taking another shot of Patrick stretched around him. It was a hot fucking sight, Patrick with an ass full of fingers and his own hand wrapped around his cock. “Jeez, Pete. Enough with that iPhone shit.”

“This isn't a time for you to be fucking bossy.” Pete did drop his phone though, bumping his fingers against Patrick's prostate for a second and feeling him tense and shudder around him. “If you're not taking dick, what's your favorite way for me to make you come?”

“Last time I rode your tongue, that was pretty fucking hot,” Patrick said with a quirk of his eyebrow. His hand had slipped from his cock to wrap around his own thigh. “Shut you up real quick.”

“Nope. We're not playing your way, we did that earlier,” Pete said, slipping his slick fingers out of Patrick's ass, and circling his nail around his rim instead. Patrick shuddered again, his eyes closing briefly, his belly rising with deep breaths.

“I like your tongue, your lips, your fingers. In my ass, on my cock, I don't care. I just want it,” Patrick whispered, biting his lip when Pete sunk his finger inside him again. Patrick was so easy to relax if you knew the right techniques. He wondered bitterly whether Michael had managed to figure him all out yet. “I want it now. Fuck. Please.”

“Long time since I've heard you beg,” Pete said, dropping his head to lick a stripe up Patrick's cock. Patrick's moan folded into a gasp as Pete sucked once, bobbed his head twice, before pulling away. Under different circumstances Patrick would've been pissed at Pete's comment, but he was too caught up in what was happening to his body.

He crossed his fingers and sunk them inside Patrick, right up to the knuckles. It wasn't much of a stretch, and maybe if Pete hadn't caught Patrick on tour, he'd have used a toy from Patrick's collection. Patrick liked the bumpy glass ones, the pretty ones that cost way too much to shove up his ass, but he'd used them on Patrick in the past and the noises that had bubbled from his mouth after had been fucking delicious.

Pet worked Patrick over good and tough. He wanted to sink his teeth into his soft thigh until he bled, but Patrick had someone else that saw him naked now, so he couldn't do it anymore. He fucked him with his fingers instead, sliding in his pinky and his pointer. Patrick made a hesitant noise at all four, but then Pete grabbed his cock firmly in his other hand and Patrick started making more encouraging noises.

“Jesus, fuck. Like that, yeah,” Patrick was rocking his hips down, fucking himself on Pete's fingers, his head thrown back. He never let himself go fully anymore, always cautious, always walls up like he was scared of letting go with Pete every time, but he was soft and open, legs splayed carelessly, sweat sparkling over his chest; nipples pink and peaked.

“Fuck yourself good,” Pete said, wishing he had the ability to carry on like this and kiss Patrick, but he couldn't and so he just jerked Patrick roughly, fingering him hard. He rolled down awkwardly, using his elbows for strength until he was stretched on his belly and staring at his fingers. He blew against them, hearing the noises Patrick made in return. He laughed, slowly licking with the tip of his tongue against his knuckles and Patrick's rim.

“Oh fuck. Fuck--” Patrick arched his back, hands rubbing over his chest, up into his own hair, but not Pete's. His knee bumped the side of Pete's head, but then they were opening again as Pete fingered and licked and jerked Patrick, all the things he said he wanted. He was clenching and he was leaking and he was crying out, shaking and shaking until he squeezed impossibly tight around Pete's fingers and started to come. Pete jacked him through it, up and down until he stopped coming. Pete still kept his fingers inside Patrick until he suddenly loosened and they slid out with little force. Pete wiped his hand from the lube but then crawled up the bed, so he was able to watch Patrick come down. He was red-faced, almost purple-lipped from how he'd been biting down. He was possibly at his most beautiful post-orgasm, but Pete would never say such a thing. It'd embarrass them both.

“That was pretty good. Maybe I'll let you do it your way more often,” Patrick said, still a little breathless, forgetting this was supposed to be their last time. He was radiating so much heat; hair slick with sweat, but he gripped Pete's wrist in his hand and tugged weakly. “Come on, do what you wanted.”

Pete didn't need telling twice. He wanted to have Patrick just like this; soft and boneless, more vulnerable than he ever let himself be anymore. He didn't need to use much lube, just swiped some over the head of his cock, stroking himself until all he could think of was sinking himself into Patrick and then he did just that, grabbing Patrick beneath his hips so he had good leverage. Then he pressed in, not stopping until he was sunk deep. Patrick was home; the most familiar and comforting thing on earth. Patrick bracketed one leg over Pete's hips, his arms wrapping warmly around him, his mouth somewhere near Pete's jaw. He almost didn't want to start fucking, wanted to stay like this, Patrick wrapped around his cock and holding him gently.

“Come on, baby,” Patrick said softly, stroking the base of Pete's spine and it got him moving slightly, thrusting and hearing Patrick gasp. It was probably over sensitivity on his part, but he was being so placid and soft that Pete was almost overwhelmed by how different it was now. No nasty looks, no nasty comments from either of them. Pete shifted his head so they could kiss and even that was gentle. Patrick opened his mouth beneath Pete's, one hand pushing back Pete's black hair as they started to move together.

“You're so fucking...so perfect like this. Shit.” Pete was blathering between kisses and thrusts, Patrick's heels hooking behind Pete's calves. “Just wanna fucking love you forever like this.”

“You could,” Patrick murmured, or something of the sort, then he was tucking his head to Pete's neck so they couldn't kiss anymore. Pete moved inside him, it always felt the same with him like this, sort of perfect and maybe like love-making if he'd ever had the desire to call it that. Pete was sweating and so was Patrick, their skin sliding together, but still he knew Patrick was probably crying. They'd both known to expect it, so Pete didn't fuss him and focused on the orgasm starting to build inside. He grabbed fistfuls of the bedding either side of Patrick's head and used that as leverage to fuck Patrick. It was perfect. So perfect to have Patrick like this, like the way it used to be before Pete's disastrous wedding and everything else that happened.

It was a slow orgasm that he felt more in the head than body. It wasn't hard but it played out, hips pushed into Patrick as far as they could, fists pinched around the sheets, his eyes squeezed shut. He'd never been loud in bed, but his throat felt sore when he finally swallowed, his dick softening inside Patrick. He didn't really want to move, wanted to sleep on Patrick like this for a month, but he took one breath, kissing Patrick's soft cheek before gently pulling out of Patrick and falling onto his back beside him.

“Well fuck, that was. Wow. Better than the first fuck, for sure,” Pete said, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. He wanted to curl up against Patrick and sleep the night away, but it was already into the early hours of the morning and he wouldn't have much time. “I shouldn't let you power bottom so much, I forgot what it was like.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his own voice sounding soft too. “But you know.”

“I know.” Pete answered, hearing Patrick sniff softly. He smiled up at the ceiling, Patrick's tears were endearing really, over anything else, even if he felt the constant sadness spiking his own heart a little. He moved his hand until he could hold Patrick's with it, their fingers sliding together. “I understand why.”

“Okay. Can you get a towel or something, I can feel you leaking out of me,” Patrick slurred and Pete turned to see him holding wet fingers up from between his legs, his mouth down-turned. Pete didn't want to move at all, but he stumbled to the edge of the bed and found his way over to the kitchen area, grabbing some paper towels and falling back onto the bed. He mopped Patrick up himself, gently wiping between his legs and down his thighs, using the bed sheet to wipe down their bellies and cocks. He tossed the tissues to the side, forgetting about them as he wrapped an arm over Patrick, and pressed his face into the side of his head.

They both stayed awake around an hour and a half, finally watching the semi-pornographic movie on the TV and laughing about it the whole time. Patrick was sleepy and soft, in a fairly good mood as they cuddled. Pete just liked holding Patrick like this, even if it was brief. There were a few times when he almost got the words out _'Leave Michael, come back with me.'_ Patrick was mid-tour, he'd tell himself, they should wait until he'd finished, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't really want to. This would tide him over for the time being.

“Tomorrow's my day off. You could stick around and we could do something,” Patrick said when the credits started to roll. His eyes had dark circles beneath them and Pete had pretty much forgotten that he'd done an energetic show before their hook-up.

“I'm already booked on a flight back and I'm seeing Bronx tomorrow,” Pete lied. Tomorrow would start well, but then their bickering would get nasty because Patrick would remember this wouldn't last and they'd fight viciously until they both were in tears. There was no point ending it at that point.

“Okay,” Patrick nodded his head, stroking the side of Pete's face as they laid on their sides facing each other. “I wish I could be in his life. Is he a good kid?”

“The best. He makes everything good,” Pete said, ignoring the first part. Bronx's conception had been the downfall of their bullshit, it'd be nothing short of traumatic having Patrick around his kid. “Do you wanna see a photo?” Pete grabbed his phone from the side, flicking through his gallery. He'd forgotten about the dirty pics he'd taken of Patrick and swiped past them quickly until he got to the most recent one of his kid.

“Oh he's so sweet,” Patrick said softly, grabbing the phone. The smile on his face was authentic, blinking softly at Pete's toddler. “He looks like you, but blonde. He's adorable.” Patrick's thumb swiped the photo, his face falling slightly. Pete peered over the phone and recognized why.

“She's a model, she's awesome, Patrick. We're just dating, but she's great,” Pete said, watching Patrick try and contain his emotions. He didn't have any right to get mad now, not when it was _true love_ with his brand new tall handsome guitarist with the big fucking cock.

“I'm sure.” Patrick handed the phone back, but he was too tired to start anything and his eyes dried up after a few seconds of serious blinking. “I have Michael and you have your family and this is the last time anyway.”

“Exactly, dude. That's the way it's gotta be.” Pete put his phone on the side and then ran his thumb over Patrick's brow bone, back and forward in soothing motions. “Try and get some sleep, okay? You've had a long day.”

“Wake me before you leave this time, right? I wanna say goodbye, you never let me,” Patrick said, kissing Pete's wrist when he went to drop his hand.

“You're a goddamn heavy sleeper,” Pete joked, not really wanting to commit to it. He reached up and snapped his hand over the light switch on the wall above the bed, shutting the room of any light. “I am in love with you, though. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am.”

“Sometimes I think I believe that,” Patrick said softly, laughing even if it wasn't funny. “Please, let's just sleep and wake me up when you go.” Pete didn't sleep, but rested beside Patrick as he drifted off pretty quickly, the TV still playing in the background. He waited until just a little bit of natural light started to sneak through the gap between the blackout curtains. It was half-five and Patrick was asleep, soft face even softer with sleep; looking impossibly young and not full of angst or sadness. Pete watched him for a few minutes before he went off to find his clothes still in the bathroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, he looked rough. It really must be love if Patrick slept with him twice in one night. He crept back over to the bed, stepping into his shoes, but he had no plans to wake Patrick, who'd never been a morning person and definitely wouldn't deal with heartbreak so early on in the day. It was best to let him fall apart on his own and let Michael look after him. He sounded like a better guy than Pete either way. Pete grabbed the teddy bear from the side and left it in the spot he'd just vacated before he crept outside of the room and away from Patrick.

By the time he got off the plane back into California he had a voicemail from Patrick. He didn't bother listening to it, it wouldn't be anything he hadn't heard before. He'd probably need another six sessions with his shrink to deal with this fall out, but he didn't want to do that. He wanted to go and see his kid and not think about anything or anyone else for a while.

Two weeks later he got an email from an unknown sender, and when he clicked on the attachments he saw it was a few forty-minute videos. He squinted down at the thumbnail, recognizing both Patrick and the situation he was in. The sex tapes he'd promised. A better man would've sent them to the trash, but Pete didn't consider himself a good man in any which way. He watched them and then he waited on Patrick's word; a text an email, whatever. Patrick said he didn't want it anymore, but Pete knew him. It'd only be a matter of time.

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'll write a happy ending I promise


End file.
